


Shape of things to come

by ShariDeschain



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Damian Wayne is a baby, Dick Grayson is Robin, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain
Summary: "I’d like to say that this is the strangest evening of my life”, he confides to the baby currently squirming in his arms. "But between me and you, for now it doesn’t even makes the top ten. Although I have the strong impression that this is only gonna get weirder and weirder from now on, yeah? What do you say?"Or, the baby!Damian AU I was bound to write at some point of my life.





	Shape of things to come

"I’d like to say that this is the strangest evening of my life”, he confides to the baby currently squirming in his arms. "But between me and you, for now it doesn’t even makes the top ten. Although I have the strong impression that this is only gonna get weirder and weirder from now on, yeah? What do you say?"

The baby blows bubbles at him and doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s not even one year old and too amazed by the wonderful discoveries of his own fingers to pay attention to Dick’s nervous rambling. Which is a good thing. In his fifteen years on this Earth, Dick has met and played with a lot of children, including many babies, but he suspects that bouncing them on his knees and making weird faces at them for five minutes doesn’t really qualify him as a good babysitter.

Plus, there’s still the little matter of the unconscious Batman currently laying on the couch of his living room.

Dick had to catch him from face planting on the floor as soon as he opened the door, and it’s still unclear to him how the hell he managed to hold both the baby that was shoved without a warning into his arms, and the two hundred pounds of Dark Knight that immediately followed without dropping either of them. And Bruce had not been helpful in the slightest, by the way. In his defense, he looked, and still looks, so badly beaten that Dick winces in pain by just looking at him - and Bruce being still knocked out twenty minutes later does say a lot about how bad this is. Which is like, really bad.

So yeah, if the baby starts to cry, Dick is gonna lose it. More than he’s already losing it. Lucky for him, this particular baby doesn’t seem to be much of a crier. More of a hitter, if anything, since he seems to enjoy slapping the chubby hand he’s not too busy sucking, all over Dick’s face. Dick doesn’t mind. Like he doesn't mind the drool on his favorite shirt. The blood stains on the couch, on the other hand... but no, that's a problem for another day.

He pushes the baby’s wet fingers out of his mouth and bounces him a little on his hip.

“Are you hungry, kiddo?”, he asks, pacing around the living room to soothe himself more than the kid, who’s now just gurgling quietly at himself. Dick side-eyes Bruce’s still form again and sighs. “I don’t reckon we’ll find baby formula in his utility belt, uh? I mean, with him you can never be sure about anything, but-”

 _He’s my son_ , Bruce had muttered against Dick’s shoulder while he was dragging him across the room. He’d added something else, but Dick was not able to catch it, his brain already short-circuiting. Batman’s son. Bruce’s son. And Dick didn’t knew anything about it. He _still_ doesn’t know anything about it. Where the kid was, who the mother is, how Bruce find out about him in the first place, when he got him, who attacked them and why. He doesn’t know anything because he wasn’t there, and he wasn’t there because he and Bruce had been in this stupid fight for weeks now, and Dick’s been staying with the Titans since then, away from home, away from Bruce’s life which, apparently, is even more full of surprises than Dick ever imagined.

And now Bruce won’t wake up to explain anything.

Dick swallows back the deadly mix of fear and guilt gripping his guts and tries to think. Prioritize. Be Robin.

He should call Alfred. Or Clark. Check the perimeter, make sure that Batman wasn’t followed, that they’re not going to be under attack any moment soon. Find something for the baby to eat. And a diaper, since he doesn’t seem to be wearing one under the blanket he's wrapped in. The diaper first, probably.

“I don’t even know what your name is”, Dick realizes, stopping his restless pacing to actually look at the kid for the first time tonight. The baby squeals in response and looks back at him with big, bright green eyes full of curiosity. “I hope you already have one, because I’m gonna tell you in all honesty that Bruce is really shitty at naming things. He’ll probably just call you Batson or Batbaby, you know?”

For some reason, the idea makes him laugh. Well, it’s more a bark than a laugh but still. It’s not even funny, but Dick’s nervous, and scared, and he needs an outlet. He also really, really needs to call Alfred.

“I’m Dick, by the way”, he continues, still giggling, a little bit hysterically at this point. The baby, at least, seems very fascinated with the sound and tries to push his fingers inside Dick's mouth again. “I’m your- well, I have no idea what I am to you. Your brother, maybe. But Bruce’s not my dad, you see, he’s my partner. What would you call your father’s partner? An uncle? I kinda feel like Clark is my uncle sometimes. You’ll meet Clark soon enough, I think. He’s Superman. Very cool guy. But I think I’m too young to be an uncle, you know? So let’s say that we’ll decide what I am to you later, okay?”

He’s rambling again. And he’s kinda crying. Maybe. Just a little bit.

Is Bruce even _breathing?_ Dick can’t scrape up enough courage to get closer to him and check out, but he _has_ to, right? Because Bruce can’t die angry with him. Or thinking that _Dick_ is angry with him. And there’s… well, there’s Batbaby to take care of, now. The same Batbaby who’s starting to whimper, little fists balled up around Dick’s drool-soaked t-shirt.

“Shhh, no please, don’t cry”, Dick tries to shush him, rocking him up and down. “Please, please, don’t cry, Batbaby. That’s, like, the last thing I need right now.”

“Damian.”

Dick jumps. He shouldn’t, what with being Robin and all, but he does it anyway: he jumps. Later he’s going to justify himself by saying that Bruce’s voice was so roughed up that he could barely recognize it, and anyway let’s be real: his Batman’s voice could very well be a villain’s voice. It was studied to be so.

“Bruce?”, Dick all but runs to him, crouching in front of the couch to help him sitting up. “Bruce, are you okay? What the hell happened? Who’s this baby? Is he really-”

“Damian”, Bruce repeats with a grunt, propping himself up on his elbow and failing at hiding a wince at the motion. “His name’s Damian. _Not_ Batbaby.”

He manages to sound _so_ offended at the idea, and Dick can’t help but laugh again. This is one of the things he could never explain to anyone, not even his friends, because saying out loud “ _Batman makes me laugh_ ” and meaning it, makes everyone look at you like you were some kind of a lunatic. But it’s true. Bruce manages to make him laugh more times than Dick cares to admit. And it’s a good thing. It’s nice, and familiar.

“Well, excuse me”, he snorts, already a little bit more relaxed because Bruce is fine - battered up, but fine - and if Bruce is fine then everything else is gonna be fine too. It’s how the world works. “You do have a tendency of naming everything as Bat-something. Like, if I hadn't chosen Robin as my name, can you honestly say that you wouldn't have called me Bat Kid or something on the line?”

Bruce blinks down at him.

“Dick…”

“Nevermind, I know I’m right”, Dick interrupts him. “Now, are you going to answer my other questions? Who’s Batba- who’s Damian?”

Bruce’s gaze shifts to the baby in Dick’s arms, and the wrinkles around his mouth soften up into the hint of a smile.

“My son”, he answers, reaching up to take him.

And it’s definitely not the first time Batman holds a baby to his chest, but this looks somehow different to Dick’s eyes. Something in the way Bruce touches the kid, maybe. Not only extra careful, but also a bit hesitant. Like Bruce himself is not entirely sure this is real.

“Your son”, Dick repeats, sitting back on his heels and waiting for Bruce to elaborate. “Okay. That was clear enough.”

Weird and unexpected, but yeah, clear enough.

Bruce pushes back his cowl, smiles down at Damian and caresses the baby's cheek with exceptionally gentle fingers. Damian squirms and kicks his feet, apparently very happy to be fussed over.

“Mine and Talia’s”, Bruce adds after a moment, readjusting the squirming baby on his lap. The blanket in which Damian's wrapped in slips away a little, revealing a small bare shoulder. And on the shoulder, clear as daylight, Dick sees the bloody handprint Bruce’s now also staring at.

“Talia Al Ghul? The daughter or Ra's Al Ghul?”

It's baffling to even think about it. The blood on Damian’s skin is dry, Dick notices. And the handprint is slim and elongated, but little, clearly belonging to a woman’s hand.

“Talia Al Ghul”, Bruce confirms with a sigh, avoiding Dick's eyes. “She didn’t- I don’t think she had any intention of telling me about him anytime soon. I had to fight my way into the League’s compound to get to him. And then to get him out.”

 _Well, shit_ , Dick thinks.

“Well, shit”, he repeats out loud, standing up only to plop down on the couch next to Bruce.

For a while they just look in silence at Damian, who’s now fussing very loudly, trying to put Bruce’s fingers into his mouth, armored gauntlet and all.

“He’s kinda cute”, Dick decides. “To be your son, I mean.”

“I know.”

There’s the hint of a smile in Bruce’s voice. Dick frowns, reaches out an hand and boops the baby on the nose, making him chuckling in delight.

“I would’ve helped even if I was - _am_ \- still angry at you”, he adds accusingly. “You only had to ask me, and I would've come with you.”

“I know.”

“You always know everything”, Dick scoffs, but Bruce’s admission is already a win on its own in his book. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are”, Bruce repeats. He doesn't sound as exasperated as Dick feels, though.

Bruce sinks back a little into the cushions, head tilted to the side, one arm still wrapped around the baby, the other one on the back of the couch, almost around Dick’s shoulders. His ribs must be killing him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Truth to be told, underneath all the bruises, and the blood, and the dust, he looks kinda happy, which is always a good look on him, Dick believes.

He gently brushes a thumb over Damian’s shoulder, rubbing off the dry blood from the baby’s skin. He looks up at Bruce.

“I guess I’m coming back with you then, uh?”, he asks, hating the hesitation in his own voice. It’s not like Bruce would ever kick him out of the Manor, for god’s sake. And it’s only a flash, but Dick catches it anyway: the relief in Bruce’s eyes as he looks back at him.

“I…”, Bruce starts, voice unsure. Then he coughs and looks away. “That would be very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Dick.”

“Thoughtful”, Dick repeats with a dramatic sigh, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder to get closer to Damian’s little, very chubby face. “Heard that, Batbaby? That’s an example of the shit you’re gonna get once you grow up, I hope you know that.”

“Language”, Bruce grumbles above them.

Dick ignores him altogether.

“Did you already call Alfred? Does he know yet?”

Bruce's face twists as if he had sucked on a lemon, which is enough of an answer for Dick.

“That’s gonna be so much fun”, he grins, leaning forwards to nuzzle his nose against Damian’s round one. “But only for me and Batbaby, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr prompt](https://unavenged-robin.tumblr.com/post/171209661853/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-robindick-is).
> 
> \+ [bonus by EternalSheWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/151424580)


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